


Change

by TheYellowKoala



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alfred F. Jones - Freeform, America, Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Enjoy!, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, I'm running out of ideas for tags, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Letter, Lithuania - Freeform, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Tolys Laurinaitis, after the soviet era, airport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25113271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYellowKoala/pseuds/TheYellowKoala
Summary: It's the summer of 1991, and America is seeing Lithuania for the first time in decades. But something has changed about his former employee, and he has a feeling he knows why. He can only hope he's wrong.I wrote this intending for it to be platonic, but it can also be read as AmeLiet. Read it as whatever you want, I'm not here to dictate your life.
Relationships: America & Lithuania (Hetalia), America/Lithuania (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! A couple of things before you read this.
> 
> 1\. Is this historically accurate? No!  
> 2\. Do I care? Yes, actually.
> 
> I care very much, especially about historical accuracy. I did a bunch of research about Lithuania before writing this for another fic, so I was very disappointed that I wouldn't be able to keep the accuracy if I wanted to keep the storyline. So, yes, I do know Lithuania was under Russia's control before meeting America (1795 - 1918), but for the sake of the story, it's assumed that he wasn't. (Not directly referenced). So yeah! I'm sorry! Trust me, this is killing me way more than it's killing you.
> 
> Rated T for some swearing (seriously America, watch your language!) and referenced abuse.
> 
> I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters, obviously. If I did, I'd be rich. Which I'm not. :(
> 
> Enjoy!

America tightened his hold on the folded paper in his pocket, verifying that it was still there and he hadn’t lost it. He rubbed along the parchment, feeling each individual crease on the pads of his fingers.

He bounced his knee up and down, looking around sporadically and let out a slow breath through clenched teeth.

A few people bustled around him, some barely awake and sporting comfy pyjamas due to the early morning hours, others fully dressed in suits looking at their watches, obviously under time constraints. A family over to the side was enjoying a meal, the parents watching as the children fooled around in their seats.

A girl in her twenties sat across from America. She gripped a pen in between her index finger and thumb, the cap resting precariously between her teeth. She scribbled down her thoughts with such speed and precision, he could only imagine what she was writing. Maybe an essay for university that was due in a couple of days. Or maybe the first draft of a story. Or maybe a letter to a loved one, letting them know how she was doing.

America’s breath hitched in his throat for a second as he stuck his hand that had slipped out of his pocket back in, relaxing as he felt the paper under his fingers again.

He pulled the crinkled piece of parchment out, unfolding it for the thousandth time. He handled it with care, making sure not to rip the precious paper. The folds were delicate, he was afraid that if he were to pull it too hard it would rip.

He read the rushed handwriting again, analyzing every word;

_Dear America, 1930/03/14_

_I am writing this letter to let you know that I am alright, knowing you, you are probably very worried. So, here is proof that I am fine._

_I hope that you are also alright. I saw how you looked when I left, to put it nicely, you looked horrible. I am disappointed I cannot be there to help you out. Believe me, if I could, I would be there. Just remember to take care of yourself, don’t neglect your needs. Oh! And don’t forget about the Hostas in the back garden, they need to be watered at least once a day, or else they will die. We wouldn’t want that, would we?_

_I truly am sorry I left so soon. It was not my intention to leave you behind. If I had the choice, I would’ve stayed. But alas, life can be quite cruel, can’t it?_

_If I am welcome, I hope to return soon. Once all this blows over, it would be an honour to be your housekeeper again. I hope that in a year or two the economy will be in well enough shape for me to return._

_One last thing; I have to strongly advise against sending a response to this letter. Mr. Russia does not know I sent this, and I fear he will not be very happy if he finds out I have been corresponding with you, considering the rising tensions between the two of you. So, please refrain from writing back._

_I’m sorry I wasn’t able to write you sooner, but better late than never, right? I do hope this letter finds it’s way to you._

_Take care,_

_Lithuania_

Back when America had first received the letter, he was in rough shape, the economy was in shambles and he was trying to cope with living alone. The letter was a ray of sunshine through the clouds that seemed to follow him everywhere he went. He sat up late at night for the following weeks, reading the letter until his eyes hurt, analyzing every word.

Despite the warnings, America had decided to write a letter back. Sure, Russia wasn’t any happy-go-lucky person, but he surely couldn’t be too mad about a simple letter. He made sure the wording was perfect before sealing it in an envelope and sending it off, hopefully, to find it’s way into Lithuania’s hand.

Needless to say, America didn’t receive a response.

America worried about his former employee, his friend. During the cold war, his spies had found out that Lithuania, along with the other Baltic states, were servants for Russia, doing his housework.

That was all.

Or at least, that was all he was told.

He had a hunch that there was more going on behind the scenes if that commie bastard had anything to do with it. He could only hope that he was wrong and that Lithuania was merely there to help out around the house.

He was torn from his trance as people started trickling out to grab their bags, most looking like they had just woken up from a nap.

America hastily folded up the letter and stuffed it deep in his pocket, assuring that it wouldn’t fall out.

He stood up from his spot and wandered towards the carousel, his breath picking up as he scanned the crowd for the nation. He saw families reuniting, businessmen calling taxis, friends meeting up, tired civilians waiting for their Luggage, but no Lithuania.

Just as he was about to panic, he spotted the brunette making his way down the stairs and through the glass doors separating them.

America advanced in his direction with a new-found spring in his step. As he got closer, he met the man’s gaze and a genuine grin spread across his face, lighting up both eyes.

Lithuania returned the gesture with the corners of his lips turning up slightly.

Unsure of what would be appropriate, Lithuania stuck out his hand, “Mr. America, thank you for—”

Unable to restrain himself anymore, America cut him off by enveloping him in a hug. He tried not to notice the small yelp that escaped his lips or the way Lithuania flinched and stiffened up, only relaxing into the embrace after a couple of seconds.

America squeezed around the backpack on Lithuania’s back, taking in every bit of his friend who he hadn’t seen in so long.

When he finally backed out of the hug, he put his hands on Lithuania’s shoulders.

“It’s really good to see you,” he said, the relief a bit too evident in his voice.

“It is good to see you too, Mr. America,” Lithuania responded, his voice much quieter than America’s. His eyes didn’t quite meet America’s, lingering around his collarbone instead of his eyes.

America brushed it off and transferred one arm to rest around Lithuania’s shoulders, “So, how was your flight over dude?” He started to lead his comrade towards the exit, “Was it epic?”

Lithuania let out a strained laugh, “Yes, it was quite good.”

Just as they were about to leave the building, America stopped, “Oh wait! What about your bags?”

“Oh don’t worry, this is all I have,” Lithuania gestured to the medium-sized suitcase he was hauling and the backpack on his back, “It all fit on the plane.”

America nodded and led his friend to the car he had waiting, taking notice of his behaviours. He held himself stiffly, his back, although hunched slightly, unmoving. His gaze tended to drift toward the ground and his hand gripped the handle of his suitcase tightly, his knuckles turning a light shade of white.

The two nations walked through the revolving doors, then to America’s car which was—probably illegally—parked on the curb.

America popped the trunk of the black Audi, taking Lithunaia’s bags from him and placing them in the back.

They then made their way around opposite sides of the car, hopping into the two front seats, America behind the wheel and Lithuania beside him.

America quickly checked his mirrors then pulled out of his spot and onto the busy roads of D.C. He focused on the road for a bit, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. The silence between them was like a rubber band stretched out to its full capacity, feeling like it could snap at any second.

America spared a glance towards Lithuania, intending to spark up a conversation, but he saw his eyelids flutter close and his head droop forward, only to snap back up when he realized he was falling asleep.

America clicked his tongue and pried his gaze back to the road, “You can take a nap if you want,” he said, pulling to a stop behind a long line-up of cars, “I think we’re gonna be here a while.”

Lithuania merely nodded and let his head rest against the window, his eyes fluttering shut once again.

********

Over the past two days, America had become increasingly concerned about Lithuania.

It started with small things, like the small flinch that America felt under his hand whenever he touched the older Nation. After the first few times, America had made the conclusion that it was probably best to avoid any physical contact, and for the most part, he was successful, which was quite the feat considering he lives off of contact with others.

He also remarked that Lithuania never seemed to relax, always holding some sort of tension in his shoulders.

A couple of hours earlier, the two had spent the morning outside in the garden, sipping on freshly brewed coffee made by Lithuania while America rambled on about the plants and other pointless things. They talked about the hostas and how America had kept them alive for over forty years. They talked about how they basically took over the rest of his garden and he had to purposefully stop watering some of them. The tension in Lithuania’s shoulders abated slightly, and America was very proud he was able to relax his comrade.

Perhaps the most worrying thing America had picked up on was Lithuania’s willingness to do anything America asked. Sure, Lithuania had always been quite the pushover, but it was never anything like what America had been witnessing. He was pretty sure that if he asked him to jump off a cliff, Lithuania would’ve.

It seemed that Lithuania had taken the role of house-keeper again, even though America assured that he was just there for a visit and didn’t have to do anything if he didn’t want to. But, nonetheless, Lithuania kept finding chores to do, and even took up making most of the meals.

Not to mention Lithuania’s refusal to call him anything else other than ‘Mr. America’, no matter how many times he insisted ‘America’ was fine.

All in all, there were many arrows pointing in the wrong direction. America yearned that he was just reading into things too much, and this was all just apart of Lithuania’s personality, but those wishes were quickly smothered when he heard a loud crash and raced down the stairs.

The scene before his eyes sent a hand to cover his mouth.

Lithuania was on his knees, his hands violently shaking as he attempted to scoop up the pieces of the shattered plate on the ground. His breathing was laboured, tears formed in the corners of his eyes and threatened to spill down his cheeks. He was muttering something to himself under his breath, but America couldn’t hear what was being said.

He pulled himself from his stunned stupor and rushed over to Lithuania. Dropping to his knees beside the trembling man, America placed a hand on his back in an attempt to calm him down.

Needless to say, it had the opposite effect of what America had intended.

Lithuania flinched violently, scrambling back against the cupboards as his arms took a defensive position over his face. By now, his whole body was shaking and his breaths came out in quick pants.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Lithuania choked out, repeating the mantra as if it was a lifeline, “I’m sorry.”

“P—Please don’t hurt me.”

Alfred’s heart shattered into a million pieces, the small shards landing amongst the pieces of the broken plate. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, did Lithuania really think he was cruel enough to hurt him? What had happened to make Lithuania think that way?

He quickly pushed his feelings aside when he saw red dripping down Lithuania’s pale arm.

He made his way over to Lithuania again, this time making his movements slow and visible. As much as he wanted to, he refrained from touching the older nation.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, his voice coming out smooth despite the shakiness he felt in every bit of his body.

Lithuania slowly lowered his arms, but still curled in on himself and squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing was erratic and unpredictable, this made America worry he wasn’t getting enough air.

If America was going to take care of the cut, he had to talk Lithuania down from the panic attack first.

He wracked his brain for techniques that he probably learned at some point, but none immediately came to mind. He was about to start panicking himself, when an idea popped into his head.

America sat in front of Lithuania and tried to make eye contact, “If you’re comfortable,” he started, “put your hand on my chest.”

Lithuania obeyed, shakily sticking the uninjured hand out to America’s chest, his eyes still screwed shut.

America put his hand over Lithuania’s—earning a flinch before he relaxed into the touch—guiding it to rest just above his heart, “Feel my heartbeat? Focus on that.”

America sat as still as he could, keeping his breaths even. He waited patiently, willing to sit there for hours to calm him down. He noticed that without any prompting, Lithuania started reciprocating his breaths.

The two sat there, breaths identical, the only thing penetrating the silence was the steady beat of their hearts.

Lithuania slowly opened his eyes to meet America’s cornflower blue ones.

“Better?” America asked.

Lithuania swallowed and nodded, then looked down in shame at his injured hand, “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” America stood up beside the nation and offered him a hand, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I—I can do it myself.” He gestured to the broken glass on the floor, “I’ll clean this mess up too, while I’m at it.”

“Nonsense! I’m the hero so it’s my duty to help you out.”

Lithuania took his outstretched hand and America hoisted him off of the ground. At first, Lithuania was a little unsteady on his feet, but after a second or two, the nations were able to walk to the bathroom with no problems.

America turned around to grab the first-aid kit off of the wall while Lithuania sat on the bathroom counter, his bloodied hand sitting face up on his lap.

The younger nation opened the kit, “Alrighty, let’s see what we have here,” he said.

“Can I touch you?” America asked, fearful that Lithuania might freak out again if he were touched.

Lithuania nodded.

America grabbed his hand, inspecting it. He then wet a small washcloth and started dabbing around the wound. A couple of small shards of the plate had lodged themselves in the cut, but Lithuania appeared largely unfazed by the matter.

“So,” America rinsed some of the blood off of the cloth and continued dabbing, “you gonna tell me what that was about?”

“It was, uh,” Lithuania paused, going off-topic, “sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

If it had been any other person, America would’ve believed them and just left it at that. But this wasn’t just any other person.

“Right.” America looked him in the eyes, “Are you sure there wasn’t any specific reason?”

Lithuania dodged the question, “I’m really sorry about your plate, I can buy you a new one.”

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s just a plate after all.” America turned back to the first aid kit to ditch the cloth and grab some tweezers. “But that’s not what I asked”

“Uh, no, I don’t know why…” his voice quieted down at the end.

America focused on the tweezers for a moment, “Sorry, this is probably gonna hurt,” he muttered under his breath.

He pulled out the first shard, Lithuania flinched slightly but bit his tongue back and didn’t let one sound seep past his lips. America continued to take the shards out until there was none left in the cut.

He put the tweezers back and grabbed the washcloth. He held the washcloth on the cut to try and cut off the bleeding.

The young nation looked up at the brunette with tears glistening in the corners of his eyes, “Did you really think I was going to hurt you?”

Lithuania stiffened, “No! No, of course not, I just—” He paused, crafting his next words very carefully, “I forgot.”

“Forgot what?”

Lithuania looked down and refused to meet America’s gaze, his eyes welling up.

“That you weren’t Mr. Russia.”

The words came out just above a whisper and almost didn’t reach America’s ears. He half wished they didn’t.

“He—he hurt you?” The silence was enough of an answer for America.

His worst nightmare had been confirmed. Lithuania probably wasn’t fine when he sent that letter, or for the forty years after.

His cheeks flushed red and his body radiated anger. His free hand unconsciously curled into a fist at his side. How could that commie hurt such an innocent soul? He wanted to punch the freak square in the face. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair!

“Don’t be angry,” a small voice squeaked from in front of him, “He didn’t know what he was doing.”

“Don’t be—” He shook his head and laughed a shallow laugh, “Don’t be angry?” America’s voice turned into a yell, “How can I not be angry when that bastard hurt you for years! Decades! You didn’t deserve it, and yet he still did it anyway! That’s fucked up. He’s fucked up!”

He panted, still livid from his rant. But he stopped when he realized Lithuania was cowered in front of him, eyes full of fear.

“Shit.” America made his way back to Lithuania, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled.”

Lithuania shook himself out of his stupor, “It’s okay.” The young nation took to wrapping his comrade’s hand with gauze, and the two fell into an uncomfortable silence, tension floating in the air above them.

The nation sitting in front of him was beyond broken, a shell of his former self. And America had no idea how to fix it. He wanted to, he wanted to be the hero, but it was going to be hard to undo this kind of damage, the kind that intertwined itself in your soul, and became apart of your personality.

But if America knew one thing, it was that he was the hero, and hero’s do everything in their power to help others. So, even if it took him one thousand years, America was going to help Lithuania through this, doing whatever it takes.

America pinned down the bandages and gave it one last look over before being satisfied with his work.

He hoisted himself up to sit next to Lithuania and grabbed his two hands.

“I won’t let him take you away again,” America stated, “You can stay here as long as you like.”

Lithuania let a small smile grace his lips, and met America’s eyes, “You’re a good friend, America.”

Lithuania leaned his head against America’s chest and the two sat there, welcoming the silence, relishing in it. For a moment, they were back in the ’20s, when everything was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I do this thing where I obsess over a character for a while and learn everything I can about their culture, history and language. So this was produced while I was doing that. And now I know way too much about Lithuanian history. Oh well, what can ya do?
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a comment to let me know what you think, I really love reading them!
> 
> Also! Check out my Tumblr for updates on fics! (@theyellowkoala)
> 
> Also Also, I figured out how to do Italics on AO3! Yes!


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